


The power of creation

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Fill, Kink Meme, M/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, original characters are there just to have an Outsider POV, the kink is real, they can do miracles there's nothing realistic here, unrealistic pregnancy and birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When he wasn’t busy sneaking up to Aziraphale for Cuddle Times, he was either feeding him, or cleaning his flat and his shop, grabbed by a sudden need to make everything spotless, much to Aziraphale’s displeasure.“I keep it dusty for a reason!” he lamented, toddling after him with the air of a ruffled chicken. “If everything looks so— So clean and nice, people will want to buy books even more!”“Then I’ll chase them away,” Crowley had replied, stubbornly perched on top of the ladder to dust the shelves that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in approximately 123 years, which, knowing Aziraphale, was entirely possible. Aziraphale sighed.“Well, give me your phone, at least,” he said, grumpy, and before Crowley could utter the flabbergasted ‘why?!’ sitting on the tip of his tongue, Aziraphale added, “I want to use the google, so I can see if snakesnest.”That won him a -clean- rag to the face.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 289
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Fics





	The power of creation

**Author's Note:**

> Please for the love of Her read the tags and the [original prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=758120) from the kink meme before reading I don't want anyone crying to me cause this isn't their cup of tea
> 
> if this IS your cup of tea then, welcome. Have a good read.

One of the best things that they’ve discovered together was Sex.

It deserved the capital letter, Crowley was sure. It was the one Human Thing they’ve never partaken in in 6000 long years. Not interested, or maybe too loyal to a budding love that for millennia wasn’t allowed to bloom, but regardless of the reason, they’ve got to it together. And it had been amazing.

They’ve been going at it steadily for a year, at that point. Giving in to the whim whenever they felt like it, rejoicing in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s corporation down to every tiny little detail, trying every possible combination of genitalia and some that weren’t even possible for human standards. Lately they’ve settled on something simpler, much to Crowley’s joy. He rather liked this particular combination, the simplicity of it.

“I can tell that you really enjoy this, dear,” Aziraphale had replied when Crowley quietly asked him if he wanted to shake things up a bit, after the sixth time he’d blown his load inside Aziraphale’s warm, tight pussy in four days. “As I do. I’m fine with lingering on this combination, for a bit.”

Crowley hadn’t protested. He did like to gaze upon Aziraphale’s welcoming body, lying down in wait, his plush thighs spread eagerly for him. He loved taking care in caressing each and every curve, to let his fingers sink in the soft flesh, watch Aziraphale squirm and sigh as he obediently offered himself to Crowley, waiting to be pleased as much as Crowley loved to please him. He spent 6000 years pleasing his Angel with dinners and wines and theatre tickets and books, and this was no different. Crowley enjoyed it so very much, to have Aziraphale lying on his bed, completely pliant and willing as Crowley downright worshipped his body with dexterous fingers and an even more dexterous tongue, until Aziraphale was but a writhing mess begging to be filled, his pussy leaking eagerly. Crowley loved so very much to give it to him, to slowly sink his hardness inside Aziraphale and drink in his pleased noises, the blush spreading all the way down to his chest, the wetness of his gray eyes as he gazed adoringly up at Crowley. He absolutely loved tomove inside Aziraphale’s impossibly hot body, slowly, and then more urgently as they both approached the climax. He loved pushing in until his bony hips collided with Aziraphale’s softness, to come inside Aziraphale as deep as possible. He so very loved watching the white sticky seed roll along Aziraphale’s inner thigh, when he’d get up after the act.

There was something thrilling, into filling Aziraphale up. Crowley wanted to do it over and over and over. Maybe one day he’d ask Aziraphale if he felt like taking his cum as many times in a row as they could possibly bear. He’d love to watch Aziraphale’s belly get even plumper with all the seed resting in him, to watch the whiteness squeezed out of his filled to the brim pussy.

That was what brought Crowley there, he’d think at a later time, when he was much more lucid. The fantasizing about filling Aziraphale up like a christmas turkey had turned into fantasizing about him being so full of Crowley that Crowley could see it on his round belly, and then it had turned into fantasizing about Aziraphale’s body growing heavier with the fruit of their love.

Not that Crowley worried about those fantasies. That’s all that they were. He privately indulged in the thought, as he kneaded at the softness of Aziraphale’s waist, hips pumping into him with little wet noises mixed with their heavy breaths and moans, with their calling each other and murmuring sweet nothings as they came together.

He privately indulged, until he did so not very privately, one night when they’ve gone down to business so incredibly slowly, taking all their time in undressing one another while sharing fleeting kisses. Fingers running over the warm skin, nails scraping lightly as they abandoned the cloth in small heaps over the bedside. It had been so unbearably sweet, the way Aziraphale welcomed him inside, arms tight around Crowley’s shoulders as he openly moaned in pleasure, kissing Crowley’s neck, breath heavy and damp against the skin.

It was _so much_. Crowley felt drunken, head drowning in the almost palpable feeling of how much Aziraphale was loving this. Loving him, loving the way Crowley pushed into him with slow and deep sways of his hips. Aziraphale was clenching around him almost desperately every time he slid out, only to tremble and moan when Crowley sunk back into him deeply. It was too much, and Crowley wished nothing more than to fill his Angel up, make all that love grow into something physical, something real—

“Want to put a baby in you—“ Crowley murmured, mouth running on its own volition as he nuzzled Aziraphale’s ear, brain drowning in pleasure as his hips lost the rhythm he’d settled into, the pleasure burning in his lower belly. Aziraphale let out a huffy chuckle and a breathy moan, spreading his thighs even wider, as if trying to get even more of Crowley than he was already getting. “Would you like that? To grow our baby inside you, feeling it and knowing how it got there? To know you’ve been so filled with my cum that you had no choice but to get pregnant, huh?”

Surprising Crowley, Aziraphale melted in another long moan, eagerly pushing up against Crowley’s hips.

“Mmhyeah—“ he murmured, rough, and Crowley licked his lips as he looked at the pink, small nipples grow perkier. Aziraphale really did like that thought. “Carry your baby… Watch myself grow with it— And then— Ah— Feel the burn as I push, giving l-life to the seed you’ve put into me—“

“Fuck, Aziraphale—“ Crowley moaned, a violent shiver running up his spine. He hadn’t indulged in the idea of Aziraphale giving birth, so far, but hearing the Angel say those words went straight up to his fervent imagination and straight down to his eager cock at the same time. He felt himself twitch inside Aziraphale, spurting generous pre-come. “You’d like that, huh? You’d like to— Shit, _oh_ — To have your breast grow heavy with milk, to leak eagerly as to feed our child, wouldn’t you?”

Aziraphale nipples were almost rock hard at that point, and Crowley could see it just right in his mind’s eye, the milk collecting in fat drops on the tip, roll down from Aziraphale’s generous chest. He could see it perfectly, Aziraphale’s body accepting his seed and growing their baby with so much love and care, Aziraphale caressing his round belly and moaning as his body made space for him to push their little one out. It wouldn’t hurt when Aziraphale would give birth, Crowley decided firmly as he fucked into Aziraphale’s body with eager urgency, the both of them moaning loudly. It’d be pleasurable, instead. The best orgasm of Aziraphale’s life, so he’d be eager to get pregnant again and again—

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—“ Crowley hissed, fingers sinking into Aziraphale’s thighs as he came harder than he had in weeks, almost seeing stars as he pushed and pushed, as if trying to come all the way inside Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale let out a wordless, keen noise as his hips jumped and his legs twitched under Crowley’s fingers, toes curling in an orgasm that looked very much as strong as the one Crowley just experienced.

“…That was— It _was_.” Crowley declared after a full couple of minutes, as they recovered with heavy breaths in a tangle of limbs.

“Nice idea,” Aziraphale convened pleasantly, almost as if Crowley had asked him if he felt like playing chess over tea, instead of sharing his fantasy of making Aziraphale pregnant. “Can we do— More of that?”

Crowley felt his cock jump, interested. Which he could do, because refractory periods were for humans, which they weren’t. Aziraphale licked his already red lips, knee pushing against Crowley as he spread his legs once more in a wordless invite. He was leaking white seed, and Crowley tutted.

“That won’t do, if you want to grow our baby,” he commented with pretended disapproval. “Gotta fill you up until your womb will have no choice but to have it _stick_.”

“Oh, please, do,” Aziraphale let out in a moan, eyes fluttering close when Crowley pinched his right nipple while he lined himself, and then sunk inside the greedy pussy with a loud groan.

They went at it for— A while.

And then kept going at it for the days that followed. They took a trip through the baby section of a clothing store, one morning, cooing over the cute little onesies, giggling like idiots so much that the clerk started to launch annoyed looks at them. Aziraphale seemingly fell in love with a space themed crib mobile, gingerly poking at the stuffed planets and stars hanging from it, and the sight of his Angel longingly looking at the toy, knowing Aziraphale liked it because he knew that _Crowley_ would like it, did _things_ to Crowley. He bit down his lip, caressing Aziraphale’s waist with an almost butterfly-light touch, and when the Angel turned with a soft smile and seemingly noticed the _state_ his partner was in he openly shivered, silver eyes getting hooded with something needy and hungry. It wasn’t long before they walked through the store at a brisk pace, going into the men clothing section to find a free changing booth. A snap of fingers and they ensured no one would hear nor disturb them, as they urgently got rid of the basics. It wasn’t long before Crowley was pushing Aziraphale’s back against the wall, holding him up as if he was made of feathers, Aziraphale’s leg spread for him circling his waist as Crowley sunk into him with a choked groan.

“I bet you can’t wait—“ Crowley hissed in pleasure, eagerly pushing inside Aziraphale with short, vaguely stiff movements. Aziraphale let out a long sigh, pulling at Crowley’s hair in that way he knew Crowley loved. “You can’t wait to get all full, can’t you? You love being full— With food, with wine, and now with my cum— Bet you can’t wait to get full with my baby, too, huh?”

“ _Crowley_ —“ Aziraphale’s breath hitched, and he let out a series of little, breathy ‘ _oh_ —‘ as his hips twitched in the fastest orgasm he’d experienced yet, head tipped back against the wall, his insides clenching around Crowley. Crowley didn’t stop.

“You’ll love it—“ he murmured, lost in the warmth of Aziraphale’s insides. “You’ll love every second of it, I just know it—“

“Yes—“ Aziraphale agreed, almost a sob, his legs circling Crowley’s waist even tighter. “Oh, Crowley, I want it, I want it so much—“

They emerged back from the changing booth almost forty minutes later, looking perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. None of the humans around even spared a glance in their direction, their attention pulled elsewhere so no one would dare ask how come they clogged the booth for so long. They had no idea of how satisfyingly spent Crowley felt, nor of how pleasingly sore Aziraphale was, how he was holding himself tight, making sure not a single drop of Crowley’s seed would get wasted. Of how Crowley knew perfectly well what Aziraphale was doing, already getting once more a bit hot under the collar at the thought.

There were dinners with more desserts than usual pushed subtly in Aziraphale’s direction while Crowley openly leaned in his personal space, gently kneading at his soft belly, at his full thighs, yellow eyes pointed at him with so much open adoration that they ended, more often than not, unable to wait to be home, before getting to the best part of the night.

There were afternoons spent in the flat above the bookshop, where the noise of the bustling city was muted, distant, with Crowley lying belly up on Aziraphale’s bed, which had been seeing more use in the past handful of months than it had in literal centuries, and Aziraphale straddling his hips, stripping for him with an almost coy smile and red cheeks, an open contrast with the plain desire swimming in Aziraphale’s eyes. Aziraphale would bare himself openly for Crowley, and Crowley could palm at his chest generously, pinching and pulling Aziraphale’s nipples until they were almost painfully swollen, until Aziraphale’s breath was heavy and his pussy was leaking eagerly on Crowley’s tummy. Crowley would grab at Aziraphale’s soft waist and guide him, finally sinking in Aziraphale’s eager, impossibly hot and welcoming body, causing him to go almost boneless as he moaned in pleasure.

Sometimes it was Crowley that guided them back onto that little shared fantasy, praising Aziraphale’s willingness to take so much, and his greediness in holding it all in. Sometimes it was Aziraphale, instead, lost in pleasure and love, declaring how happy it would make him to make a life with Crowley, how wonderful it would be, if they could be able to do that, to create together a physical, tangible representation of what linked them, of their steadfast love that survived through so much and was finally able to breathe freely.

Sometimes they even indulged in it in the aftermath, as they rested in a tangle of limbs and sweat cooled on their bodies, as they shared soft, sweet little kisses, and they laughed about how funny it would be, to have a child. They could parade their baby around, show off the impossibility of it all, and surely their head offices that were, no doubt, keeping an eye on them, would go absolutely bonkers. Aziraphale ended up in a giggling fit that lasted minutes, when Crowley launched himself in a little, colourful tale of how Gabriel would probably explode into a hundred tiny archangel-y pieces upon discovering Angels and Demons could procreate.

They didn’t worry about it too much, nor ever pondered about the not-so-funny things that would happen, if they were to really have a baby. It was a funny little fantasy they shared, and it was pleasing, indulging in something they both liked.

It was all that it was, after all. Just a fantasy.

**

Except there was the fact that they were both very willing supernatural beings, and Crowley especially had a knack for making things work his way unconsciously. He was the Demon who knew how to drive a car without knowing how to drive a car, because he was convinced that was just how things worked, and thus he’d been able to drive his Bentley from the second he sat at the steering wheel.

So it wasn’t exactly weird that a womb that wasn’t really there in the first place, as Aziraphale had never bothered with that particular bit —wasn’t strictly necessary, after all—, suddenly _was_ there, and it worked. It worked overtime, because two supernatural beings said so even if mostly unconsciously and while in the high of sexual pleasure.

Not that they realized it immediately. They did stick with that particular configuration for months, neither of them growing bored of it for reasons that might’ve been the consequence of their unexpected fantasy-in-the-making. But Crowley started to grow suspicious at some point, when something seemed to be— different, about Aziraphale’s belly.

The point about them is that they had to make a conscious effort to change things about their corporation, and while Crowley enjoyed fluidly shifting and tweaking when the mood stroke him, Aziraphale had always been firmly set on the same corporation for 6000 years down to the length of his hair, the genital area being the one thing he shifted willingly. So Crowley had very well trained eyes, when it came to Aziraphale’s body.

And there was definitely a different kind of roundness to his belly. It felt less soft, more pronounced in a way Crowley couldn’t explain.

The suspicion that something might be amiss rose a few days after he first noticed it, when Crowley casually proposed to shift their genitals if Aziraphale felt like it, and Aziraphale replied with a surprisingly strong, decisive “No!”

Even he looked surprised by the way he reacted, blinking like an owl.

“Sorry, my dear, I’m not quite sure from where did that come from,” he apologized, sheepishly. “But I do feel like staying like this— Would that work for you?”

“…Of course,” Crowley conceded, because, to be honest, he’d love Aziraphale regardless of genital configuration, he’d keep loving him even if Aziraphale would decide to go all Ken Doll down there. “I don’t mind.”

But the suspicion was planted. Crowley tried to reason that there hadn’t been any symptoms, nothing that could possibly lead to— It couldn’t be, right?

(Crowley really did not think, yet again, that those sorts of worries would hardly touch them. Neither of them had any idea of how pregnancy actually worked, and aside of having witnessed, or even helped, in the occasional birth, they had hardly seen much other than that last phase of baby-coming-out, so no symptoms shown their faces.)

And Aziraphale seemed utterly unfazed, aside from a growing appetite, which Crowley hardly though anything about. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d seen the Angel indulge in food more than usual. He’d get those moods, every now and then, nothing exactly new.

But Crowley couldn’t stop thinking about it. Like an itch that wouldn’t go away even after being scratched bloody. So, when he just so happened to be spending an afternoon lying down on one of the bookshop plush couches, head sitting in Aziraphale’s lap as the Angel kept a book in one hand and carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair with the other, Crowley decided to shift minutely, press his ear against Aziraphale’s belly, and focused.

Soon enough, he could hear— Something liquid, soft movements, and a consistent, very much present heartbeat.

Crowley jumped sitting like a spring that had been kept caged, finally free to release all its kinetic energy. Aziraphale blinked at him, clearly surprised.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, voice flat with shock. “You’re pregnant.”

Aziraphale silently looked at him for a second, before spluttering a laugh. But it died down, fast, when he noticed that Crowley wasn’t laughing, and was instead staring at him with eyes that had went fully yellow.

“…What?” the Angel finally said, flabbergasted.

Crowley let out some inarticulate noises, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Aziraphale’s belly. Aziraphale frowned, carefully settling his book on the nearby coffee table and putting a hand under his chest almost surreptitiously, taking a second to focus, and—

“Oh,” he exhaled, faint. “Oh, good lord.”

“Alkdfj—“ Crowley helpfully supplied.

“This might be a problem,” Aziraphale replied, very carefully shifting his palm away from his own body, as if he was afraid that whatever was growing inside him might emerge and attack like that awful scary scene of that movie they once watched together.

“Lkfjgd!!!” Crowley said.

**

“Lee— Lee, have you _seen_?”

Lee Harper was twenty-five, had been working at that pub stuffed through the alleys of Soho for three, and he admittedly quite liked it. He’d grown surrounded by an extremely religious family, had discovered he was gay at twenty, and had to do a lot of self-reflection and growing to get rid of an entire castle of prejudices his upbringing forced around him. Working in Soho had done literal miracles in that sense, helping him a great deal.

And now it was happening again, having to confront something unexpected. He silently nodded as Janice grabbed his arm and shook him with a little squeal.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful!” she was babbling, which wasn’t surprising. She had been a great fan of Mr. Fell and Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner for ages, despite not having any idea of what Mr. Fell’s partner’s name actually was. None of them knew his name, despite his frequent presence both in the alley the pub was located and the bookshop at the corner right in front of it. They all knew him as Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner, seeing as Mr. Fell always called him ‘dear’ or, in the last year and some, ‘darling’, ‘love’ and ‘my dearest’. Which were clearly names they could not use, to address Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner. Janice practically adored them since both Mr. Fell and Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner would come grab something to munch at an increasingly common rate, leaving very generous tips each and every time.

“We have to go congratulate them! Maybe we can bring some leftover cake? I don’t think Jamal would mind—“

“No, wait, slow down—“ Lee forced himself to say, snapping out of his reverie. “I mean, going and congratulating them directly seem a bit much, doesn’t it? Like, I know they come here often, but—“

“Ooh, c’mon— It’s so lovely!” Janice sighed dreamily. “They will have the cutest baby, I can feel it.”

Lee looked out the window, over at the bookshop yet again. He was still trying to wrap his head around the whole concept. For the past three years Mr. Fell had been a sort of guidance, to Lee, unbeknownst to him. He was just so— Openly _himself_ he had become a sort of aspiration, and Lee could only dream of being as sincere with his sexuality as Mr. Fell was—

But he had always assumed Mr. Fell had to be a cis man. It seemed so obvious, not even a doubt in place. But they both saw them, he and Janice, saw Mr. Fell and Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner getting off the always spotless car, with Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner rushing to open the door for Mr. Fell, helping him on the sidewalk with so much adoring care it felt almost tangible. They both saw Mr. Fell get off the car carefully, only wearing a button-up shirt instead of his usual get-up, his belly round in a way that left no space to the imagination. Mr. Fell had always been on the softer side (‘huggable’, Janice would say, and Lee would privately agree. Mr. Fell looked like he could give the best hugs ever.), but the kind of roundness he was showing was definitely suspicious. And then as Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner guided him toward the entrance of the bookshop with a hand on Mr. Fell’s back, his other hand was deposited gingerly on Mr. Fell’s belly. After what seemed a moment of hesitation, Mr. Fell carefully deposited his hand over Mr. Redhead-Bentley-owner’s as they exchanged some words, and then they went inside.

So, assumption: revisited. Mr. Fell was clearly not a cis man. Lee scrapped that concept out of his mind, and discovered a newfound respect for the man blooming inside him. Mr. Fell was _fearless_.

And Janice, who would often launch herself in long winded narration of how she spent the weekend with her niece, who would melt in coos every time someone with a baby would come into the pub, was looking like someone handed her a winning lottery ticket.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Janice. Besides, we are working.”

Janice sighed at that, and they turned toward the pub. It was fairly empty, for now, but it would soon be rush hour.

“Alright,” she conceded, slinking away from the window to go start on the dinner prep. “But if they are in the bookshop once our shift is over, I _will_ go congratulate them!”

**

Crowley had felt the _intent_ before the three could even come out the pub. The three being Piercing Girl (pretty self explanatory), Shy Guy (he was nice if reserved, clearly dealing with a lot of baggage, and seemed to harbour a silent sort of idol-crush toward Aziraphale, which Crowley found funny), and the owner of the pub, Jamal. Crowley had once spent an evening discussing rock bands with him and had found a kindred spirit in his tastes, which was the reason he bothered to remember his name. That, and the fact that Jamal’s personal steak with potatoes recipe was downright sinful.

He went downstairs, and opened the door of the bookshop just as Piercing Girl was about to knock, making the three of them jump.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley,” Jamal immediately said, sighing in a long-suffering manner. “We _tried_ to stop her—“

“You know his name!” Piercing Girl exclaimed, clearly affronted, turning on her heels. “You never said!”

“You never asked,” Jamal replied, mild, as Shy Guy shifted nervously by his side. “Look, let’s just go, it’s not—“

“Congratulations!” Piercing Girl steamrolled on, causing the other two to groan. Crowley blinked. “Is Mr. Fell in? I’m so happy for you both—” she added, craning her neck over Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley was still trying to wrap his head around the entire ordeal himself, if he had to be honest, and the only reason he currently wasn’t rolled up in a ball of limbs, losing his mind, was because Aziraphale clearly needed someone to keep the cool, at the moment. Crowley cleared his throat.

“He’s upstairs, he’s— Huh, not in the mood for visitors, I’m afraid.”

That was enough to make the huge grin on Piercing Girl’s face slide off, leaving way to concern as her two companion sobered considerably, expressions going flat.

“Oh— Is— Everything alright?” she asked softly, in clear, genuine worry.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no point in denying what the three had seen, and he didn’t want to mess with their memories, not if it wasn’t strictly necessary.

“We weren’t— Exactly expecting— You know,” he trailed off vaguely, before gesturing to his own belly with both hands. “It came as a surprise. We are still— Kind of wrapping our heads around it.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Piercing Girl said in a small exhale, blushing vaguely. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t want—“

“ ’S alright,” Crowley replied, gruff. It wasn’t, not really, but it was hardly her fault, and she clearly meant well. “Just— Do me a favor and keep it to yourself, for now. We need a bit of time to figure everything out.”

“Of course,” Jamal intervened, softly. “If you need to talk…” he nodded vaguely toward the pub, adding, “there’ll be a dinner on the house, for the both of you, whenever you’ll want.”

Crowley blinked repeatedly, something tight in his throat. He worked it for a second, before trusting himself to speak with no breaks in his voice. “…Thank you. We will come by.”

There was a brief exchange of nods and the three excused themselves, but before Crowley could close the door, Shy Guy turned around.

“Please— Tell Mr. Fell that— I—“ he shifted his weight, indecisive. “That I think he’s very brave,“ he blushed furiously, spectacled eyes sliding away, and Crowley found himself surprisingly touched yet again.

“I will,” he replied, voice low, and Shy Guy seemed to relax plainly. They finally parted ways with a last wave, and after closing the door, Crowley deposited his forehead against the wood with a soft thud.

Oh, what a blessed mess. Not only this was _happening_ , but people were starting to notice already—

“ _Fuck_ —“ he hissed softly, and then stood more upright with a little sigh, turning to climb the spiral staircase up to the flat. “Angel?” he called as he stepped into the small corridor.

It was more to announce his presence than anything else, because Aziraphale was exactly where he’d left him a handful of minutes earlier, as he went downstairs to intercept the one eager interloper and the other two trying to stop her. Aziraphale was still sitting on the edge of the bed where they might have— _Conceived_ —

(Crowley couldn’t be sure. There were many places it could’ve happened, his own flat and the Bentley included.)(He’d apologized to her about it by giving an extra session of cleaning and polishing, but if they— _Conceived_ in the Bentley, she might become too smug even for Crowley’s standards.)

He was sitting very carefully, interlaced fingers deposited on his thighs, back to the door. Crowley carefully circled the bed, noticing the carefully blank expression on Aziraphale’s face. Anyone else might’ve thought him as cool as a cucumber, but Crowley knew better, and knew that was definitely a ‘I AM VERY MUCH INTERNALLY FREAKING OUT’ kind of expression.

“Hey, huh—“ Crowley started carefully, gingerly sitting by his side. “Are you—“

He trailed off. Aziraphale was not ‘fine’, or ‘ok’, or ‘tickety boo’, as he’d say himself. It was dumb to even ask. With a sigh, Crowley gently disentangled Aziraphale’s hands, substituting Aziraphale’s interlaced fingers with his own, squeezing his palm.

“Angel— We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, sounding hollow to his own ears.

“…I don’t know what to do,” Aziraphale finally said, very carefully. He’d been almost entirely silent since they went to the hospital to have some— Checking done on him. Everyone had been unbearably kind to them, not raising a single eyebrow despite how strange the situation might’ve looked. They were repeatedly assured that all the exams that had been done came back clean. That the life currently growing in Aziraphale’s body was as healthy as it gets. They were shown the little thing on the screen and were helpfully informed of the fact the pregnancy must be about six months along. For an instant it seemed as if the nurse was about to ask them if they wanted to know the sex, except she was wise enough to catch onto the ‘ _oh fuck what do we do_ ’ vibes and quietly printed the results of the sonogram for them, telling Crowley everything was written in there as she gave him the folder.

It seemed that the— Thing (his mind refused to call it a ‘baby’, not yet, still a bit more freaking out to do) was fully human, which made a sort of sense. Their corporations were supposedly human, for the most part, so it was logical, in a way, that the fruit born out of them wouldn’t look any different from a normal mortal. But Crowley knew better than to expect this _thing_ to be in any way, shape or form normal. He’d delivered the Antichrist, after all— Well, not literally delivered, but now there would be a literal deliver and kfldfdj?

Crowley took a deep breath, reigning back his train of thought. So, he— Handed over the Antichrist, who looked just like a normal baby, so he wouldn’t expect the _thing_ to start growing wings while in the womb, but all bets were off, once it’d be out—

“Oh, shit—“ Crowley whispered, realizing it had been literal minutes since Aziraphale finally spoke, and he’d gotten so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even reply. “Angel— I don’t know either,” he admitted, hoarse. Aziraphale let out a vaguely hysterical chuckle.

“I guess— I guess we can just—“ he mimicked the act of snapping his fingers, blinking repeatedly. “I mean, it’s— This isn’t— An ideal situation, is it? I mean it’s— We are— How are we supposed to—“ he made vague gestures with his hand, before adding, “We— Probably better not— Let this finish.”

Crowley was so utterly lost in his own panic that it took him a moment before the words really sunk in, and he gaped.

“Aziraphale, you are an Angel,” he finally managed to say, and Aziraphale finally turned toward him still wearing that detached, bordering on manic, expression.

“And?”

“I mean— You are kind of— About the whole loving life thing. Not that I object morally, if that’s what you want to do, but— Would you be able to— To delete a life from your own body, just like that? Won’t it hurt you?”

Aziraphale blinked, closed his mouth as he paled violently, and let out a noise that sounded dangerously like gagging. Crowley grabbed his shoulders, steadying him.

“Are you going to puke on me,” he asked, practical. Aziraphale worked his throat, cold sweat already beading on his forehead.

“…No,” he managed to croak, looking very much like someone that managed just barely not to puke. “Oh, Crowley, you are right, I could never make that choice—“ he deflated, shoulders sagging, eyes sliding downward. They both quietly looked at his round belly for some instants.

“…How did it take us this long to notice?” Crowley asked, flabbergasted, still keeping both hands on Aziraphale’s upper arms. It seemed so _obvious_ , now. “Six months! That’s more than half the length of— Shit—“

“Ah— If only, I think I’m the one to blame,” Aziraphale said, smiling mirthlessly. “There’s a literal life growing inside me, and I didn’t notice— I’m not very… Bright, am I?”

“Maybe— Maybe we didn’t notice because it didn’t want to be noticed?” Crowley offered, at a loss. “Like— Maybe it has some kind of self-defence thingy, like Adam.”

“Oh— Might be,” Aziraphale replied, just slightly more hopeful, but then paled again in horror. “Oh, no— Crowley! Maybe we are making the second Antichrist!”

Crowley blinked and then spluttered an hysterical laugh, which was the wrong thing to do. Aziraphale launched him a wounded look.

“That’s not funny!”

“Angel— No, I guess it’s not, I’m sorry,” Crowley replied, stifling the laughter. “But I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that. I think— I’m pretty sure this is just the result of us getting— Huh, a bit too into our little roleplay.”

Much to Crowley’s dismay, Aziraphale didn’t seem cheered by the idea. Instead he squirmed, wringing his hands in front of his belly.

“Oh, this is my fault,” he then said, cheeks going pink. “I just— Liked the concept of— Of having a baby with you so much that I— I might’ve wished a bit too hard—“

“…As if I wasn’t all for that,” Crowley sighed, shaking his head. “I wished as much as you did, Aziraphale. We share blame in this, I’d say.”

A cumbersome silence slid on them like oil, as they quietly stared at one another. Then Aziraphale carefully disentangled his fingers, depositing both hands on his belly gingerly.

“Well— We are in a pickle, aren’t we?” he asked, softly. “We can’t— Stop it, and I’d say we can hardly give the baby up, not knowing how they might grow up to be. We don’t have a lot of choices, here. Maybe I just— Have to deal with— What would happen if we stop the pregnancy—“

“ _No_ ,” Crowley snapped, surprising even himself. Aziraphale blinked at him with vaguely moist eyes. “Look— Angel, this is uncharted territory, and I will not— Risk your life, not a chance, and— Maybe I— Don’t want to— Maybe I—“

He trailed off, indecisive. Aziraphale patiently waited, giving just a tiny nod as if saying ‘go on’.

“Maybe I’m— I’m still freaking out, to be honest,” Crowley continued, voice lowering. “But I think I’d like to— To have it— To have a b-baby with you. If you want.”

“…That’s what landed us in this spot, after all, isn’t it? We both wanted this,” Aziraphale slowly replied, a timid smile starting to rise to his mouth. Crowley let out a huff.

“Yeah well— It was all a lot of rose-tinted daydreaming, this is the real deal. Are you sure…?”

“…As I said, not much of a choice. But— I think I will make this choice regardless,” Aziraphale replied softly, and his smile widened, when Crowley delicately put his hands near Aziraphale’s, feeling the firmness of his tummy.

There was a _baby_ in there. Yeah, Crowley had some freaking out to do, still, but— He was calling the baby a baby. That was a first step.

“Alright,” he murmured, hoarse. “Yeah, sure, let’s do this.”

**

Aziraphale blinked at the light that was lazily coming in from the only half-closed shutters, and it took him a moment to realize he was _waking up_.

That was a first, for sure, along being— Pregnant.

Oh, good lord, he was pregnant.

He let out a careful, trembly breath. He had been still too shocked, the prior evening, to do anything but lie in bed with Crowley, letting Crowley envelop him in a gentle hug, closing his eyes and willing his mind to stop and just— Relax, for a few minutes, while Crowley kissed his hair, his fingers rubbing soft circles on Aziraphale’s back.

He must’ve fallen asleep then. He didn’t remember anything else. He was lying belly up, now, Crowley’s face pressed against the crook of his neck, an arm slung over Aziraphale’s chest and a leg hooked around his knee. He was snoring softly, and his breath tickled Aziraphale, causing him to giggle lightly.

It was— Quite nice, he had to admit, sleeping. He felt much less panicked than the prior day, and the warm softness of coming back to consciousness with a loving partner draped over him was— Quite lovely, admittedly.

So, a pleasing discovery, along the panic-inducing realizations that there was a baby growing inside him. He still couldn’t properly wrap his head around it— They really made a baby, he and Crowley.

“…Oh,” he whispered, feeling the sudden surge of love expanding in his own chest. They actually— They were linked so thoroughly with one another that they really made it possible for them to create a life. They made it possible for their love to bloom and produce a fruit. It was— Insane, and amazing.

Crowley was amazing. Crowley always made everything Aziraphale wished possible. He was so wonderful, so marvellous— It was so very easy to get lost in his love, to feel enveloped in it and know everything would be alright, as long as he was with Crowley. Crowley’s love, when they— Indulged in their little roleplay, as Crowley called it, had been mesmerising. So warm and all-encompassing—

Oh, how it made Aziraphale wish for more. He truly was a glutton.

“…Angel, I can hear you thinking from here,” Crowley muttered, voice thick with sleep. He leaned back on his free arm, blinking blearily down at Aziraphale. Then his eyes seemed to clear over, his beautiful, golden eyes that Aziraphale loved so very much—

“Angel,” Crowley said, slowly, cheeks pinking slightly. “Really?”

Aziraphale blinked, snapping out the little trance he put himself into. He belatedly realized there was a squirming of pleasure in his lower tummy, and a very familiar sensation of wetness and tickle in his nether regions, and Crowley clearly felt enough of it, going by his increasingly deeper blush.

“…I’m sorry, my dear, I might’ve lost myself in thinking about how we got to— This,” he replied, gingerly poking at his belly. Now that he knew— He could feel the baby so very clearly, it was weird, but not— in a displeasing way. “I’m— Sorry, give me a minute to cool off.”

“…Maybe we can speed up the process,” Crowley replied, throaty, and _oh_ — His eyes had turned, hungrily taking in Aziraphale’s prone form. A shiver ran down Aziraphale’s spine. Crowley always made him feel so desired, so craved— He unconsciously clenched, feeling the pleasure shoot up from his vulva, causing him to release a small moan. Crowley rose on his knees, a smirk pulling at his mouth as he went to get rid of Aziraphale’s trousers with dexterous fingers.

“Look at you,” he murmured, once he’d got ridden of Aziraphale’s underwear as well, spreading his thighs. Aziraphale went, pliant. “You’re _oozing_ — How badly do you want this?”

“Y-you know how much I want this—“ Aziraphale replied, breathless, as the chilly morning hair caressed his exposed genitals. He already felt so insanely swollen, desperately craving that sense of fullness that only Crowley’s erection could grant him. But much to his dismay, Crowley took his sweet time, undoing every single button of Aziraphale’s button up, to expose his round belly and his chest. Crowley’s golden eyes seemed entranced as he ran a hand down from Aziraphale’s chest to his tummy, stopping there as he freed himself of his own clothing with the other hand.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured, shifting to kneel between Aziraphale’s legs, hand still on his belly. “I want to know how it feels.”

“It’s— Strange, _oh_ —” Aziraphale murmured, flinching and shivering as Crowley ran his thin fingers over Aziraphale’s labia, rubbing a gentle circle on his clitoris. “Oh, Crowley, _please_ — It’s— Not unpleasing. I feel like— I ate too much.”

“Mh-mh?” Crowley said, clearly meaning ‘go on’, as he sunk a single finger inside Aziraphale, making him squirm for more.

“It’s— Heavy, and— Filling. But— It makes me— Happy, if I think that— That you put them in me—“ Aziraphale squirmed again, pushing his hips down, but Crowley took away even that small intrusion, causing him to moan in frustration.

Crowley smirked again, his golden eyes pointed down with unwavering intensity.

“What do you think it will happen, when you’ll give birth?” he asked, breathy, pushing the head of his erection in just slightly, making Aziraphale clench and moan, his body greedily trying to suck in more.

“I don’t know— Crowley, please, _please_ —“

“I think,” Crowley continued, voice lowering, sliding in just a tiny bit more. “I think— It will be great. That you’ll feel so full of our baby, that you will come over and over and over as you push— It’ll make you scream in pure pleasure, so much so that you’ll beg me to make you pregnant again, so you could give birth again— That is what is going to happen, Angel.”

Aziraphale let out a choked yell, when Crowley finally sunk in him. So lost in pleasure the idea of protesting the concept did not even caress his mind. He trusted Crowley fully, completely, down to every little atom of his being, and if Crowley said giving birth would be so good, then it’ll be so good.

“Look at you,” Crowley moaned, taking on a steady rhythm, filling the room with wet noises as he pushed into Aziraphale’s eager vulva. “You’ve never been more gorgeous, Angel— So eager for me, already growing heavy with our baby— And this is just the start, isn’t it? You’ll grow even more, your chest will fill up, and you’ll want me so much, you’ll want me to keep you open and ready for the big day, wouldn’t you?”

Oh, yes. The idea of keeping Crowley inside up until the day of the birth sounded very wonderful. Crowley would be so nice to him, helping him keeping his body open and ready to make way for their child. Aziraphale melted in a breathless moan, arching his back and curling his toes as he twitched and clenched around Crowley, hit by an orgasm that arrived like a storm.

“Oh, Crowley—“ he whispered, slightly blurry sight pointed up at his lover. “I love you, my dear, I love you so very much—“

That seemed to do it. Crowley released a choked groan and went tense, fingers kneading at Aziraphale’s hips as he spilled inside with an itching series of groans, back tense. Aziraphale followed again, overwhelmed by the love pouring out of Crowley even hotter than his seed in Aziraphale’s insides.

“…Angel,” Crowley murmured some minutes later, hanging from Aziraphale like a limpet as they lied on their sides, so very relaxed in the afterglow. “If every time we have sex is going to be like this, from now on, I think I might discorporate.”

Aziraphale giggled, and then felt a strange sensation in his abdomen, similar to the one caused by Crowley taking a downhill road with his too-fast driving. He blinked, looking down, and when he looked back up Crowley was staring at him with wide eyes.

“…Did they move?” he asked, faint.

“I think they did—“ Aziraphale replied with a sheepish smile. “I guess they didn’t fancy the idea of their dad discorporating.”

“Their da— Oh,“ Crowley’s eyes went even wider. “Oh. I’m going to be a father.”

Aziraphale’s smile turned into a small grin. “Yes.”

“And you are, too.”

“Indeed.”

“Aziraphale—“ Crowley whispered, suddenly springing up on his knees. “We are going to have a baby!” he exclaimed, as if he just received the news.

Aziraphale felt a laugh bubble up his throat like fine champagne, letting Crowley drop on top of him and hug him tightly.

Outside, in the entirety of the Soho district and then some, birds started to sing, dogs started to bark and cats started to purr. All flowers and trees bloomed, no matter how out of season it might have been. Inside, an Angel and a Demon laughed and spilled tears of joy together, hanging tightly onto one another as the little life they made tirelessly continued growing in the middle.

**

Mr. Fell was as detested by potential customers who _really_ wanted to purchase his books but never managed to as much as he was loved by the neighbouring establishments. More precisely, those who worked in said establishments. There was Jamal himself, of course, who had once been helped out of a tight spot during the economy crash by a Mr. Fell who insisted in eating at the pub almost daily, leaving tips that tended to be higher than the bill itself. There was Mrs. Fodder of the bakery down the street, from whom Mr. Fell bough inordinate amounts of baked goodies, getting out of the place with giant brown bags full of sweets while happily munching on one. There was David Bradshaw and his bookshop, which was insanely successful thanks to all the potential buyers that came out Fell’s shop looking forlorn and got into David’s shop in seek of the solace of being actually able to buy a book. And then there were the daily commuters that happened to walk by, who found a sense of warm familiarity in seeing the bookshop always standing in that corner, never changing. People Mr. Fell did not knew the name of, but who he would still greet with a smile and a wave, instilling a sense of calmness and kindness without even needing to speak a single word.

All these people cared for Mr. Fell something fierce, even if the man never really showed his cards. He was effusive and sweet and kind, while simultaneously keeping others at an arm’s length. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he must’ve been hurt badly in the past, that he must carry wounds scarring his heart, especially when he was so very openly gay. That was why all these people silently rejoiced when Mr. Fell’s partner started to become a pretty much permanent fixture in Soho.

They had all noticed him, it was impossible not to, when the guy was so flashy with his shining Bentley and his bright red hair that seemed to change length and style every other month. For long years he had only been a fleeting presence, a shadow that passed by as silent as a cat— But now they spent so much more time together, strolling by hand in hand and glancing lovingly at one another and sometimes sharing a quick peck when they thought no one was looking. Mr. Fell’s partner called him ‘Angel’, and Mr. Fell called his partner a slew of sappy pet names that would’ve put to shame any romance novelist. It was all so incredibly cheesy, and yet it seemed to fit the two perfectly fine. And so, the people of Soho had silently adopted Mr. Fell’s partner in their midst as well, looking after the both of them with as much care as the two of them looked after the people of Soho.

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when David came into the pub one evening, cheeks red not only for the cold.

“Jamal, have you seen—?” he whispered conspiratorial, leaning over the counter. Jamal smiled privately, before turning around with the beer he knew David would order ready to be served.

“Have I seen what?” he asked, aloof, noticing Janice clearly keeping an ear out for their conversation as she took an order.

“Ooooh, I don’t know if I should say,” David replied, drumming his fingers on the pint. “They seemed all hush hush about it…”

Jamal chuckled internally. Of course David would’ve noticed, too. Mrs. Fodder would rapidly follow, for sure.

“If you mean Mr. Fell and Crowley’s new— Situation, then yes. I know.”

“Oh! Well, that simplifies things,” David replied, clearly relieved as he took place at the counter with the clear intention to stay. “Did they tell you?”

“No, we just— Saw. You know how Mr. Fell is, always so punctually dressed. But last week he wasn’t and it… Showed,” Jamal sniffed. “Actually, they asked us to not say anything for now. Crowley said they weren’t expecting it, so it was clearly unplanned.”

David deflated a bit, at that.

“Unplanned, huh? I hope they are ok—“

“I think they’ll be fine,” Jamal replied, shrugging. “I noticed them come and go this past week and they seemed— A bit frenzied, but also happy. I’m sure they’ll come around to officially announce it, at some point.”

David grinned at that, taking some instants to sip on his beer. When Jamal came back, after taking care of some orders, he leaned over the counter, voice lowering.

“I know it’s not any of my business but— I have to admit it was a surprise,” he murmured, rolling the half empty pint between his palms. “Did you— Know? About Fell?”

“Not a clue,” Jamal replied, honest. “I don’t think— I don’t think anyone did.”

“Ah, that makes me feel less dumb,” David chuckled, leaning back and relaxing. “Here I was, thinking I was being my usual blind self. It’s a bit of consolation I’m not the only—“

The door of the pub slammed open, letting Mrs. Fodder in. She was a short, plump woman with biceps that could probably crush steel.

“Holy shit!” she declared, a giant smile opening her face. “Did you guys _see_?!”

Jamal and David exchanged a look, and then started laughing in earnest.

**

It took them a good full couple of months and the fact that they just couldn’t keep it hidden, not when Aziraphale, much to his chagrin, couldn’t fit in his waistcoat anymore, until they finally bothered stopping trying to keep the whole situation a -badly hidden- secret. It was a moot point, they both knew, and they hadn’t exactly paid much attention to keeping things sneaky, most of the time.

Crowley needed a bit to adjust to the new wardrobe. It was— Admittedly strange, seeing his Angel out of his usual attire and into more modern clothing they had no choice but to acquire. Not that Aziraphale was daring to try something different, still opting for light colors and very married to the English Professor Aesthetic, but it was— Still a change.

And he looked so adorable in his soft, comfortable wooly sweaters, so very rotund with his ever growing belly, that Crowley was having a seriously hard time stopping cuddling him every five minutes.

When he wasn’t busy sneaking up to Aziraphale for Cuddle Times, he was either feeding him, or cleaning his flat and his shop, grabbed by a sudden need to make everything spotless, much to Aziraphale’s displeasure.

“I keep it dusty for a reason!” he lamented, toddling after him with the air of a ruffled chicken. “If everything looks so— So clean and nice, people will want to buy books even more!”

“Then I’ll chase them away,” Crowley had replied, stubbornly perched on top of the ladder to dust the shelves that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in approximately 123 years, which, knowing Aziraphale, was entirely possible. Aziraphale sighed.

“Well, give me your phone, at least,” he said, grumpy, and before Crowley could utter the flabbergasted ‘why?!’ sitting on the tip of his tongue, Aziraphale added, “I want to use the google, so I can see if snakes _nest_.”

That won him a -clean- rag to the face.

The times Crowley wasn’t busy with those three activities he was possibly back to his Mayfair flat, to briefly keep his plants in check -rarely-, or in Aziraphale’s bed, getting down to some fun -much more common-.

They both loved this, they did not even tried to deny it. They so cherished the time they took, indulging in each other, so slowly stripping out of their clothes, taking long pauses to kiss softly. They melted in soft sighs when Crowley would lick into Aziraphale’s mouth so torturously gently, before sliding down his exposed chest, nip at his puffy nipples and then trail down, to place soft little kisses on his full belly, making Aziraphale feel as if he could possibly orgasm just from the tenderness of it all. But it would be even better, because Crowley would take such attentive care in downright worshipping every part of his body. Kiss his fingers one by one, nuzzling his palms, kneading at the softness of Aziraphale’s upper arms. He’d run thin fingers down Aziraphale’s sides, grabbing and pinching gently in the spots that would make Aziraphale sigh and moan. He’d bite down carefully at Aziraphale’s cushy thighs, trace the line of his shins, tickle at Aziraphale’s ankles and massage his feet, trailing tiny kisses on each and every toe. It was maddening pleasure that Aziraphale would take, lying completely pliant and willing on an inordinate amount of pillows, melting under those ministrations.

It reduced him to a babbling mess, and Crowley would chuckle warmly, satisfied love pouring out of him like an endless cascade, as he finally kneeled between Aziraphale’s legs, shamelessly spread for him. He’d let out small, itching moans when he’d finally sink inside Aziraphale’s greedy body, that ached for nothing else but to finally be filled. And he’d move in him, so slowly, his fingers poking and prodding in all the little places that made Aziraphale’s writhe under him with needy, keen noises, that made him clench so tightly around Crowley, sometimes just enough to make him chuckle and murmur a throaty ‘if you don’t give me a bit of space I can’t move, you greedy little Angel.’

It would all be so slow and soft, and once they were done, once they lied side by side, naked limbs entangled as they relaxed, they’d speak about the future. About their wishes.

“I hope they’ll have your hair,” Aziraphale said one time, sighing softly, pleasantly sore in all the best ways, thighs shining with their mingled essence. “I always loved your hair so very dearly, my darling.”

“And I hope they’ll have your eyes,” Crowley had replied, nuzzling under Aziraphale’s chin, a hand pressed on the upper side of his swollen belly. “Snake eyes are cool, but having to wear sunglasses as a toddler doesn’t sound very convenient, does it? And— Have I ever told you what your eyes remind me of, Angel?”

“No, love, what do they remind you of?”

“The clouds in Eden, after that first rain. Still gray in the sky, but of a gentler shade, a hopeful one. The most beautiful color I ever saw, sitting snug right under your wing.”

“Oh, Crowley— You’re such a hopeless romantic.”

“Shush, Angel, I’m still recovering from that orgasm, I’m totally speaking nonsense and don’t know what I’m saying, alright?”

“Sure, love.”

Sometimes it’d be more urgent, kisses shared in dark corners as wandering hands uncovered the necessary, little hiding spots being more hide-y with the help of a snap of fingers, their bodies pressed together in tight spaces, their breaths and moans mixing as their noses brushed with every each push of Crowley’s cock inside Aziraphale. Sometimes Aziraphale would guide Crowley sitting on a comfortable armchair, carefully kneel between his legs, and put his mouth to good use. One time they took the afternoon to go watch a movie Crowley wished to see, except neither of them paid much attention to the plot, not when Crowley was too busy letting his fingers do the lion’s share of the work, sunk deep in Aziraphale’s trousers and even deeper in his wet pussy. Not when Aziraphale was gripping at the armrests with white knuckles, biting down on his lower lip to smother the moans fizzling up his throat, thighs tense like iron as he trembled around Crowley’s hand dispensing pleasure so easily. He didn’t had any idea how Crowley even managed to sneak it in, considering how very little space there was between his belly and his cushy thighs.

“That was— Filthy, and so unhygienic, honestly,” he’d grumbled once the movie they hardly bothered to watch was over and they walked outside.

“As if you don’t like _filthy_ ,” Crowley had replied, in a smug whisper right in Aziraphale’s ear that made him shiver. “And I made sure the seat stayed clean.”

“Fine. But if you have these— Intentions, I’d like to know beforehand, dear.”

“Ah, it wasn’t my plan, honestly. You just looked so good, all focused on the screen, biting on your lips and distractedly petting your belly— You know what _that_ does to me.”

“Crowley, what exactly is _that_? It seems to me that everything I do makes you feel— _Wanton_.”

“ _Exactly_!”

It wasn’t all rosy, though. Sometimes they’d worry about what was going to happen. About their baby. Would they be healthy? Would they be happy? Would they be safe? They had laughed at the idea of blowing away the minds of their respective (ex)head offices by procreating, but what if Heaven and Hell decided to retaliate in a way? What if the baby would suffer the consequences of being born out of two creatures that were supposed to be on opposite sides? Maybe they’d be unable to exist, made of two halves that weren’t supposed to be put together, and their life would stop before it could even begin.

Aziraphale discovered the unpleasantness of nightmares along his newfound passion for sleeping almost every night by Crowley’s side. He’d dream of having to spend a life fugitive, constantly having to look behind himself and having to defend the life he’d grown inside his own body. Sometimes he’d dream of being dragged forcefully back into Heaven, to have the baby ripped out of him as he screamed and screamed. Sometimes he’d dream of an unsightly abomination that he birthed himself, a monster that turned on the both of them, searching vengeance for having been forced to life by their carelessness.

He’d wake in Crowley’s arms, his fingers carding through Aziraphale’s hair as he murmured, “Sssh, Angel, it’s alright— It was just a bad dream, nothing but a bad dream— Don’t cry, love—“

He’d wake with tears in his eyes and cold sweat on his forehead, shivering lightly. But all he needed was to breathe, clear the last traces of the nightmares away from his mind, and let himself get enveloped in the endless stream of love he could feel pouring out of Crowley, chasing all the fears away. By the time morning came, he felt almost silly about being so shaken by the images conjured by his corporation’s mind while unconscious.

But Crowley never made him feel like a dead weight, nor acted as if the nightmares were silly. He’d make sure to have Aziraphale find a nice breakfast in bed, and sit by his side as he ate, massaging his back.

“Why don’t we leave the bookshop closed, today?” He’d murmur, warm. “We can go out, take a bit of a stroll, eat somewhere—“

They went to all of their favorites, except for the Japanese restaurant, much to Aziraphale’s dismay. Sushi was apparently bad for babies, and while this was hardly a normal pregnancy, Aziraphale would rather not risk it. Matsumoto-san had been very understanding when they just so happened to cross ways with him, his eyes going huge and his voice silenced in clear shock, before he congratulated them, causing Aziraphale’s ears to go distinctly pink, and told them he couldn’t wait to have them back once he could have sushi again.

It was a surprisingly common reaction. Going to all their favorites meant meeting people that had known them for years, which meant said people would be left speechless and slack jawed, before recovering and giving their congratulations that rung completely sincere to Aziraphale. If he had to be honest, he’d expected much more restrained words and to get whispers behind his back, but what he found was honest happiness, instead. It was— Nice. Very nice. Even at the Ritz they had been offered quiet, polite best wishes and a complementary miniature cake on the house.

He’d have chalked it to Crowley subtly making things go smoothly for them, except Crowley looked as surprised as he did, whenever they’d meet a familiar face that welcomed the news without too much fuss.

And no fuss was to be seen that evening, as they went to Jamal’s pub. They decided to organise a little meet up of the neighbours and give a proper announcement, considering Aziraphale was starting to take onto the gait of a penguin and, really, there was hardly a reason to act coy about it. They all knew, at that point, surely.

Aziraphale might’ve cried a bit, when they found not only a mountain of congratulations and genuine smiles waiting for them, but also a small hill of gifts. There might have possibly been even a bit of snot at the adorably tiny shoes and onesies, although they’d both deny it fervently if they were to be asked in later days.

Much to their surprise, another familiar face they didn’t think they’d ever see again had been there, too.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley had blurted, shocked, once the constant flow of hugs and pats and ‘congrats, mate!’ had given in a bit. Anathema Device smiled at them over the brim of her pint.

“Had an interesting dream and was told to be here exactly today at this time,” she glanced at Aziraphale, her smile widening. “I honestly thought it might’ve been a dud, but you— Have been busy, haven’t you?”

Aziraphale blushed vaguely, and Crowley’s mouth went thin.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, I didn’t mean to tease you, I’m here to add onto the congratulations pile. It’s— Nice. I’m happy for you two.”

“Did you really came here all the way from Tadfield to tell us this?”

“ _All the way_ — It’s really not _that_ far, you know? And I wanted to check if it was true, and to tell you that you should come by. I think Adam would love to be an honorary big brother, if you’d want him to.”

“Ah, I’m sure he must have better things to do—“ Aziraphale started, smiling with a little head shake, but Crowley went pensive.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Having the Antichrist as a sort of big brother would probably work very well in keeping the little squirt safe—“

“Speaking of which—“ Anathema interjected, before Aziraphale could say anything. “You don’t have to worry.”

“…What?” Aziraphale asked, slowly.

“You don’t have to worry, the baby will be fine. Healthy. No one will hurt them,” she said, pacific. “I had some glimpses— Very lovely, especially the hair—“

“Ah! No spoilers!” Crowley blurted, finger pointed at her. “…Wait, you saw the future of our baby? _Seriously_?”

Anathema shrugged. “Just some glimpses, as I said. I won’t spoil anything, but I thought you’d appreciate to know you won’t have to worry about any— External meddling in their life.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale whispered, carefully sitting down. He felt something light in his chest, like some kind of weight had just been lifted from it. “That’s— That is good to know. Thank you, my dear.”

Anathema smiled gently, rose her pint in a silent cheer, and only spoke again once she had emptied it.

“You really should think about moving to Tadfield, there are some very lovely cottages with plenty of space for a kiddo to play around safely just sitting there, unused. Think about it.”

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced to one another, sharing the same kind of smile.

**

“Crowley, dear?”

“Angel, I told you, dinner is almost ready! C’mon, I worked my ass off for this, the least you can do is wait five more minutes—“

“Ah, I’m afraid we— Might have to put the dinner in the fridge.”

Crowley turned around, blinking. He was sans glasses, and wearing a frankly hideous christmas sweater with a snake wearing reindeer antlers. He was sure Aziraphale had it custom made for him. He loved it.

“What, you don’t want to eat?” he asked, dejected. Aziraphale was standing by the kitchen entrance, his belly so swollen he constantly looked about to burst. He was leaning against the doorframe, his expression vaguely pinched. “I know I’m not the greatest cook, but—“

“Oh, love, it’s not that,” Aziraphale sighed, smiling vaguely. “I’m sure it’s delicious— It’s just— I think it’s time.”

Crowley went still, eyes widening slightly.

“Wait, you mean—“ he made a vague gesture toward Aziraphale’s very round tummy. Aziraphale nodded. “Really? _Today_?!”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“Oh, that is so _not_ funny,” Crowley groaned, glaring at the ceiling. “That has to be Her sense of humour, to have our child born during christmas—“

“Well, technically, the date is wrong. Jesus was actually born—“

“I _know_ when he was born, Angel, I _was_ there!” Crowley snapped, exasperated, turning the oven and the flames on the stovetop off. He circled the table, standing in front of Aziraphale, who smiled up at him, clearly amused. “It’s a matter of principle! You better hang on, Angel. Let them out only after midnight. I won’t have this travesty.”

“I’m afraid I have very little say in the matter, my dear. It— Will happen when it will happen.”

Crowley sighed.

“I know. Let’s go get you comfortable, Angel.”

**

Maybe Crowley’s wish might’ve come true. The hours went by fast, the sky outside going fully black as they stayed mostly in the bedroom, with a whole lot of things ready at hand. They stayed on the bed, Aziraphale propped against an inordinate amount of pillows and reading some of his favorites as Crowley buzzed around him, trying to stifle his nervousness. He’d sit by his side and massage his back, and then he’d be on his feet, pacing, and then he’d sit down again, caress Aziraphale’s thigh.

“How do you feel?”

“Not yet,” Aziraphale would reply, relaxed. He could feel— Things _shift_ inside him, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He was armoured with a certainty Crowley himself had given him, months past: That the birth would feel so very good. And so it was doing, his body pleasantly preparing itself for the moment, his insides making space. He felt, admittedly, more than ready. He couldn’t wait to finally meet their little one, and to be able to _see_ his own bloody feet. To be able to actually walk, instead of ambling around and making Crowley snicker.

As the hours went deep into the night, the sense of pleasing moving in himself had started to get more pronounced. Crowley was quietly sitting by his side, his head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder and his hand rubbing little circles on his belly, when Aziraphale shuddered with the sudden wave of pleasure he felt rising in himself.

“Angel?” Crowley immediately asked, concerned.

Aziraphale carefully closed his book and put it down on the nightstand, before saying, deliberately flat, “Can you help me undress, love?”

Without a word, Crowley slid off the bed and gently stood by Aziraphale’s side, helping him out of his soft pants and underwear, gingerly caressing his inner thigh.

“Alright, Angel? Are you cold?” He murmured, gentle.

“No— Help m-me out of this, too.”

Crowley quietly obeyed, tugging the sweater off of him from above, and then gently sliding the button-up shirt off his arms, guiding him back down on the pillows, his hand lingering on Aziraphale’s arm.

“How do you feel?” he said, faint. Aziraphale smiled up at him, relaxing with a soft sigh.

“I’m alright, my dear, don’t you fret.”

“Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, Crowley, I—“ another wave of pleasure rose in him, making him close his eyes as a fold appeared between his eyebrows, a small moan escaping his lips. Crowley leaned in even more, releasing concern in waves. “I’m fine. It’s— It feels good, my dear.”

“…Does it?” Crowley blinked, his grip on Aziraphale’s arm relaxing.

“Yes— _Oh_ —“ Aziraphale arched his back just slightly, as another wave hit fast and hard. “Oh, Crowley— I might— I might lose myself in this, but don’t you worry, love. I promise— I p-promise I’ll be perfectly fine. _Ah_ —“

He looked up through a watery gaze, as Crowley glanced down at him and at his naked body, at his trembling thighs that he was slowly spreading.

“…Ok, Angel,” Crowley murmured, his grip relaxing entirely. “I’m— I’m glad. Can I do something?”

“Touch me,” Aziraphale whispered, eyes fluttering close. “Tell me how I look—“

He heard Crowley releasing a shivering breath and the weight of him tipping the bed down.

“You look amazing, Angel,” he replied, throaty, a hand resting in the middle of Aziraphale’s chest, the other tracing a way down his belly, down, down, down— “You look— Gorgeous. You are _glowing_ —“ the hand on Aziraphale’s chest moved sideways, fingertips pushing against his impossibly rigid nipple, causing a loud moan to escape Aziraphale’s mouth. “You are so full of— Of _everything_. So full of life— You are _amazing_ , Angel, I feel like I could _devour_ you—“

“Then _do_ —“ Aziraphale moaned loudly, not daring opening his eyes. He was afraid that, if he dared look, if he dared gaze upon his beloved, he might give in in all that pleasure, and straddle Crowley’s hips, take him inside even as he was supposed to give birth to their child.

“Another time, Angel,” Crowley chuckled, trembly. His hand stopped on Aziraphale’s inner thigh, so tantalisingly close— “You are— So open, so ready— You are doing beautifully, love—“

It was insanity. Aziraphale felt like he could _drown_ — Every single nerve ending of his corporation was thrumming with pleasure, his thoughts going dimmer and more scrambled, barely more than a chain of ‘ _oh, oh please, yes, please please please—_ ‘. He writhed on the bed, spreading his legs even more as the pressure built inside him. He felt as if Crowley’s fingers were leaving behind trails of burning ice whenever they touched, sending jolts of love and need all over Aziraphale’s body.

“Aziraphale, just twenty minutes before midnight— Think you can hold on?”

Aziraphale barely managed to hear that over the overwhelming pleasure that was suffocating all his senses, barely managed to chuckle back, as he felt the unending pouring of Crowley’s love and adoration that was seeping in him like liquid gold.

“I’ll t-try my best, love,” he managed to exhale, and then he was off, entirely lost to the pleasure and the pressure and the desperate need to _push_ —

**

He came back to feeling as if walking through a haze, as if he was slightly drunk, and with the softness of waking from an undisturbed night of sleep. But it was still the middle of the night, he could see on the sleekly modern clock Crowley had insisted in bringing from his apartment. It was about half past one, and Aziraphale needed more than a few moments to remember who he was and what had happened.

When he finally blinked his sight into clarity, and his mind too, he slowly dragged himself sitting. He felt tired in a way he never felt before. He was wearing a soft pajama, feeling very clean, and his belly wasn’t round and full anymore, back the way it had been months prior, before he and Crowley managed the impossible. He looked around, feeling dazed.

Did— It really happen, or was it just a dream? He still felt slightly drunken on the impossible height of pleasure he reached, the memories only pieces he could barely put together. He vaguely recalled the pressure in his body as he pushed, Crowley’s hand tight around his, his other running gently over Aziraphale’s forehead as he said ‘ _you’re doing great, you’re doing amazing— Almost there, Angel— The head is out— Just a bit more, love—_ ‘

And then nothing else, really. He still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing— Except the door opened with a soft click, and Crowley tip-toed in, holding a bundle of cloth and clearly wanting to make as little noise as possible. But then their eyes met, and Crowley stopped for a moment, before a big smile opened on his face.

“Angel—“ he said, voice low, and trembling with clearly badly stifled emotions. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

Aziraphale gaped silently, as Crowley covered the short distance to the bed and sat down by his side, gently depositing the bundle of cloth on his arms. The bundle of cloth moved, and Aziraphale looked down, as a soft cooing sound came from the folds.

The bundle of cloth wasn’t just cloth, of course. The baby inside it felt heavy in his arms -did he really carry them in his body for months?-, their tiny fingers opened and closed, as eyes over round and pink cheeks squinted up at him, as the baby yawned -did they really made this? Together?-. Aziraphale still found himself speechless as he moved the blanket a bit, revealing a head full of copper red hair. The baby opened their eyes fully, looking at him, and they were gray, like stormy clouds.

Just as they wished it would be.

A broken little laugh escaped Aziraphale’s mouth, as he gently ran his curled fingers over the impossibly soft cheek of his and Crowley’s baby, eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, damnit, don’t cry, Angel—“ Crowley murmured, pushing his forehead against Aziraphale’s temple. “You’ll make me cry, too. And I just _barely_ managed to stop—“

The laugh was less broken, as a single tear ran down Aziraphale’s cheek. “I missed that? Unfair—“

Crowley snorted, tilting his head on a side to smack a little kiss on Aziraphale’s cheeks. “How do you feel?” he then asked, softly concerned.

“I’m tired but— I’m fine,” Aziraphale replied, honest, shifting to lean against Crowley. Crowley circled an arm around his shoulders, his other hand rising to rest on top of Aziraphale’s as they both looked down at their baby, who was making more little cooing noises, looking back up at them curiously. “Oh, Crowley— Look at them, they are _perfect_ —“

Crowley hummed an agreement. “They are a she— Well, unless she decides not to be, in the future, but for now—“ he added, a smile in his soft voice.

“Oh—“ Aziraphale murmured, somehow feeling as if he’d known all along. He smiled, as the baby put her tiny hand over his, grabbing with her small but surprisingly strong fingers. “So— Is her birthday going to be on Christmas or…?”

Crowley let out a huffy little laugh. “She came out a minute after midnight,” he said, amused. “You were a real champ, Angel.”

“Mmh—“ Aziraphale smiled, nuzzling against Crowley’s neck. “Sorry if I— I scared you, or anything of the sort. Really got a bit lost, there—“

Crowley squirmed just a tiny bit, letting out a breath through his nose. “Nothing to apologize for. That looked… Pretty fantastic, actually.”

“It was,” Aziraphale admitted, cheeks pinking slightly.

“Made me want to try that experience, too.”

Aziraphale went still.

“…Would you?”

“—I guess she deserves a sibling to play with, doesn’t she?” Crowley replied very carefully, after releasing a soft, little cough.

Aziraphale snickered, holding the baby even closer to his chest. “Yes, I guess she does,” he said, a little grin fixed on his face.

“We’ll probably need to move before— Starting on that, though. It would be very confusing for people to see me pregnant after _you_ were pregnant.”

Aziraphale snickered again, tilting his head up. Crowley was looking down at him, eyes curving in a smile so full of love and amused fondness.

“—The books are coming with me,” he declared, a bit mischievous, and Crowley made a show of rolling his eyes.

“Of course, who do you take me for? I think there’s a place that’s just the perfect size for four of us and all your books, somewhere in Tadfield—“

“Mmmh— And a big garden, too, for all your plants. With enough space for the kids to play…”

“And an honorary big brother already waiting—“

“Right! Speaking of… I think I have an idea about what name we should give her.”

“Oh, I think we have the same idea, Angel.”

**

Epilogue:

It was perfect day, in Tadfield, as all days tended to be in Tadfield. Sometimes Aziraphale still found himself hazed by the feeling of love permeating the place, and that day was one of those days, as he sat on the garden bench, looking over at Crowley currently busy pointing out plants in their garden, holding their baby in his other arm. Although it was unclear if it was just the general feel of love covering Tadfield that left him slightly drunken, and not the infinite amount pouring out of Crowley.

“…And that’s a lavender,” he was saying, while the baby held her arms forward with agreeing coos, trying to grab at the purple flowers. “Pretty, but not to be trusted, squirt, am I clear?”

Aziraphale chuckled, taking another sip of his tea, just about to look down at the daily paper when he caught something moving out the corner of his eyes. He turned, blinking.

There was a woman strolling up the path to their small mansion, a relaxed smile on her full mouth. She looked downright gorgeous, with hair an explosion of tight, soft looking curls, and bronze skin an expanse of perfection. Perplexed, Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley once again. His back was turned to him, and he mustn’t have noticed the stranger, too busy instructing their little one about how to properly take care of plants.

Aziraphale decided to let him be, rising to go meet the woman and see if she might’ve turned up to the wrong address.

“Can I help you, m’am?” he asked, approaching with hands collected in front of his belly. She smiled.

“No, I don’t think so, but I thought I might help you,” she said, cheerful. Aziraphale blinked.

The people of Tadfiled seemed to have welcomed their presence with enough grace, for the most part, but he couldn’t exclude the possibility that some— Zealous sorts might have gotten into their head to come tell the both of them they were supposedly living in ‘sin’. Still, Aziraphale never wanted to assume the worst of people at a first encounter, so he kept sounding perfectly polite, as he replied, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, m’am.”

“Beautiful place you’ve got, here,” she said, apparently deaf, eyeing the small mansion behind Aziraphale. “Perfect for rising children. How is little Eve doing?”

Aziraphale felt himself go slightly pale, before reprimanding himself. There was no reason to fear a stranger knowing his and Crowley’s daughter’s name, after all, they lived in a fairly small village.

Still, he sounded far more on guard, as he said, “She’s perfectly fine, thank you. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea, mind you, but I can’t stop for long,” she said, still smiling, finally looking back at him. “Just wanted to tell you that you mustn’t fear for her life, my dear. I know you do, deep down— That’s what most parents do, at the end of the day, me included— But, well. You and Crowley have taken a little step up the ladder, you just don’t know it.”

“Um—“ Aziraphale replied, more than a bit lost.

“That is what happens when one creates, you see?” she continued, airily. “You’ve made a life, so you aren’t quite— Just an Angel and a Demon, not anymore.”

Aziraphale took a step back, throat going tight. “Wh— Who are you?!” he demanded, strangled.

“Oh, my dear, you _know_ —“ she said, not unkindly. “But do let me finish— As I was saying, you two made a life. You _created_ , from nothing—“

“Humans do that all the time,” Aziraphale whispered, feeling light-headed by the direction the conversation was taking.

“But you are no humans, are you?” she replied, amused. “And this… This was different from conjuring something with a miracle. This was an intent to _make_ that the both of you focused on with so much strength to make the impossible possible. You created something, and by doing so, are now a step above. You’ve become— Minor deities, as it were, I suppose.”

“Oh—“ Aziraphale exhaled, hearing a sort of white noise from the back of his head. “We— _What_?”

“Let’s say that you are far closer to me than you are to other Angels and Demons, now,” she shrugged. “And as such, you won’t have to fear for you daughter. There is certainly more than one individual not— Very happy, about what you’ve done, both above and below. But they literally cannot touch either of you, seeing as you now wield powers that are far superior.”

Aziraphale blinked, and turned around. Crowley was deeper into the garden, still none the wiser to what was happening.

“…Are you— Serious?” he managed to ask, faint. “Crowley and I? We are—“

He couldn’t even think about saying the word, and she chuckled, nodding.

“Oh. Oh, dear.”

“I thought you ought to know,” she said, sliding her hands into her jeans pockets. “Well, that was about it, really. I really have to go, now, but— Oh, I never got to be the first to say it, even if I’m always the first to know, so let me do this. Congratulations.”

“What for?” Aziraphale exhaled, still dazed and trying to wrap his head around the impossibility of what he was just told. She nodded toward Crowley.

“Little Eve will have a sibling soon,” she said, a smile curling her lips, and before Aziraphale could say anything over the mix of shock, disbelief, and now surprised, overjoyed warmth and happiness, she was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Angel?” Crowley called from down the garden, what must’ve been minutes later. Aziraphale had been unable to move, still trying to digest— _Everything_.

He turned, walking back up to his partner and their daughter, still held in Crowley’s arms as Crowley looked at him with a sunglasses-free, slightly concerned frown.

“Are you alright?” he asked, gentle, as Aziraphale stepped up to them. Aziraphale took a moment to push a little kiss on Eve’s forehead, making her giggle happily, and another on Crowley’s cheek, before releasing a trembly but happy little breath.

“Sit down, dearest. There are some things we need to talk about.”

End!


End file.
